


lurking in the grass (just do your worst)

by リリス - riris (arurun)



Series: it's a long, long journey (till I find my way home to you) [2]
Category: Inazuma Eleven, Inazuma Eleven GO
Genre: Again, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Canon Rewrite, Gen, Kurama is done with everyone's shit, Kurama time travels to Endou's era, Light Angst, Not Canon Compliant, Overprotective friends, Permanent Injury, Physical Disability, Platonic Cuddling, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel, and has to fight aliens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:40:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23613172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arurun/pseuds/%E3%83%AA%E3%83%AA%E3%82%B9%20-%20riris
Summary: In a nasty crash, the team’s bus rolls off the cliff, into the verge, and shatters into indescribable pieces-- but not a single body is found within the wreckage.Kurama wakes up to the Inazuma Caravan-- but not in the one he remembers.He’s not exactly supposed to be in Hokkaido, and what the hell is all this alien business?
Relationships: Kurama Norihito & Minamisawa Atsushi
Series: it's a long, long journey (till I find my way home to you) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1657747
Comments: 5
Kudos: 60





	1. nothing's meaningless (so share the passion)

**Author's Note:**

> **Kurama thinks life is a total asshole. All he wants is to play soccer with Minamisawa again, and fate just loves to come and screw up his plans.**
> 
> **That day was a nightmare. None of them would disagree. Kurama certainly hates remembering it.**
> 
> **But he won't falter here. He has to go back. He _needs to._**  
>  __
> 
> _-_
> 
> _In which Kurama finds himself facing Aliea Academy with Junior High Endou._

Kurama swears it’s not his fault this time. 

The outside field is flooded, the trees are covered in jelly, there’s a bucket of snakes covered in ketchup, and Hayami is getting chased by hornets. 

Like, the bigger portion of it is Hamano’s fault anyways. And Hayami was just unlucky. And maybe yes, the jelly was his idea, but the one that made it explode was Hamano, and although he prepared the snakes, it’s Hamano’s fault they’re in the bucket.

“Did you have to Tsunami Boost the entire field?” Kurama asks, exasperated, “did you literally train it so you could fill the field with more water than logically possible?”

“In my defense, I panicked, okay?” Hamano makes that point clear, “the snakes were after me. And from previous experience, Surfing Pierrot wasn’t enough to deter them. I could summon Killer Whale, but you don’t like me killing them--”

“What are you, a  _ monster _ ?! What have those snakes ever done to you?”

“They’re snakes!! And-- and you literally Sidewinder Kariya every week!”

“But it’s  _ Kariya! _ ”

“You're going to incur Midorikawa-san’s wrath one of these days!”

“He can eat my fucking  _ ass _ \--”

“ **Both of you** .” The two simultaneously freeze shock still as the dark voice overtakes. Slowly, they turn around-- and there was Kirino, face overcast and eyes gleaming with sheer fury, “ **if you’re done being** **_children_ ** **, I believe you owe me an explanation for this mess** .”

They swallow thickly. 

Cautiously, they turned to each other. “Ranmama’s mad,” a splendid observation from Kurama, “very mad.”

“Run?” Hamano whispers fearfully.

And Kurama grabs him by the arm, hightailing right out. “Yeah no shit, run!” 

-

**_Currently in Reflection._ **

Seriously, who made these signs? There are nearly twenty of them, all left over from apparently Coach Endou’s generation of mischief. There was even one with a long string so Amagi could use it comfortably, and one that had a shorter plank so Shinsuke wouldn’t kick it with each step.

“This is the third time this week we can’t use the outside field and it’s literally Wednesday!” Kirino can really be angry when he needs to be, and Raimon knows best. “The school is going to stop allocating a budget to fix it every time!”

“Now, Kirino…”

“Sangoku, shush! You’re the one that kept going  _ Hammer of Wrath  _ and leaving craters all over the place so they had to fill the whole thing in again!”

“But I got it up to V3! Isn’t that awesome?”

“And Amagi, stop building  _ The Mountains _ over the entire field if you don’t know how to send them back under!”

“It was a fun week. It felt like camping. Hikaru got lost a few times. Was it really just over the field? Felt like a whole landscape.”

“And, Tsurugi and Hikaru, stop killing the grass! It’s fake grass, how is that possible?! Are you practicing  _ Death Zone _ without my permission again?”

“In our defense it was  _ Cosmic Blaster _ this time--”

“That doesn’t make it any better! Why the hell were you practicing that indoors?!”

Kurama sighs.

Whoever it is that set Kirino off this time (oh right, it’s me,) Kirino isn’t going to stop anytime soon. Someone should call Shindou before Kirino pops a vein or something. 

-

It’s already been three years since the Raimon Soccer Club started a revolution and won. Kurama isn’t too clear on the details after that, but after a whole bout of time travel, alien worshipping, and talking rocks, he’s had enough of drama for life.

After his initial transfer to Gassan Kunimitsu, Minamisawa never came back. He belonged there, like a piece of a puzzle that never had its completion in Raimon. 

Kurama respected his decision, but it still hurt. 

He wanted to stand beside Minamisawa on the field again, because nothing could really fill the hole he left. Not even Tsurugi, and especially not Fei or Zanark. 

Someoka, Nishiki’s master, told him that this was something he’d have to get used to. Because one day-- surely, they would be reunited. He just had to be patient. And Kurama held onto that belief.

Now a second year in High School, he was just going to try and make the pro leagues. He’s already made agreements with Minamisawa to go overseas together, so he’s looking forward to it.

-

“Kurama-senpai!”

“Huh? Tenma?”

The brown-haired Captain smiles, innocently, as he hides behind the wall right out of sight. He’s mouthing some words, and Kurama is trying to read his lips to no avail.

_ What is that idiot doing there? _ Kurama thinks instead.

Tenma’s the captain now, even in High School, but as they’ve all established a long time ago in the country of knights and dragons, he’s not a leader type. 

He’s even less a responsible representative of the club, which is why Kirino is sub-captain of the sub-captain of the sub-captain, the only one that actually acts like a captain.

They all wished Shindou taught Tenma some of that ‘responsible dad’ captain trait, but Shindou just threw it away and succumbed to the madness of pegasus boy and bunny midget that can fly. So basically, chaos.

Anyways…

“Mi… ah, ee, za, waaaahh?” Kurama seriously doesn’t understand his exaggerated lip syncing. Then Tenma furiously points in the direction of the gates.

There’s a purple-haired boy by a team bus over there, and by the duller colours, it’s definitely not a Raimon jersey. In fact, said boy was staring right in their direction, looking various levels of horrifically impressed.

Kurama gets up, beaming, “Minamisawa!”

In lieu of a greeting, Minamisawa says, “what did you guys do to Kirino?” and Kurama really, honestly understands. “One sane guy on the team and you guys had to ruin him too?”

“Oh come on, Minamisawa, we still have Hayami.”

“Hayami was never sane and you know that.”

If you told anyone three years ago that Kirino will eventually lord over the team as the most responsible link, Kurama would call bullshit too. Kurama would be the one jumping on tables and screaming  _ bullshit _ while pointing a middle finger in your face, actually.

“So what’re you doing here? Came to play?”

“We’re in high school, we do not drop by other schools to  _ play _ .”

“Then what, are you gonna quit their soccer club then resurface a few months later in the opposing team?”

“Oh fuck you, Kurama. It’s been three years, get over it.”

“Never.”

The words are sharp and spiteful, but Minamisawa slings an arm over Kurama’s shoulders, and they make a very familiar, laugh-filled way to the soccer building.

Behind him, his teammates from Gassan Kunimitsu smile.

They might deny it, but Minamisawa is definitely a Raimon child at heart. 

-

“So, what happens if you two mixi-trans into each other at the same time? Would we have two Minakuras on the field at the same time? Would your thoughts align, would you be doppelgangers, or will the Miximax cancel each other out?”

After their practice match, they’re all seated across the field, half of them sprawled around the grass, the other half just sleeping in sweltering cuddle piles.

Kurama gives Hayami a weird look.

“It’s a valid question!” Hayami defends himself with a whine.

“Did you just casually call us a Minakura?” Minamisawa focuses on that bit, staring off into the distance because, yes, at this point, he’s resigned himself to Raimon craziness and he’s just mourning the last bit of his sanity left.

“We’ve been calling them a Hamahaya for a while, don’t worry,” Kurama assures him.

“Then I can legally call the other two a Rantaku now?” Minamisawa sounds reverent, like he’s just been exposed to the treasures of heaven. “Is this real?”

They laugh, collapsing into an exhausted pile with Minamisawa’s head in Kurama’s stomach, and Hayami is trapped somewhere in between so he hooks Hamano in, somehow. 

Hayami complains that they’re all sweaty, and this is just nasty. Apparently, no one cares.

They love this.

Just mindlessly playing soccer, like a bunch of idiots just wanting to see the field and run after each other. No worries, no stress, no pain. 

Just fun, just them and the sky, and nothing beyond it.

“Tomorrow’s finally it,” Minamisawa says, “good luck against Arakumo, you guys.”

Hayami murmurs a sleepy thank you, and Hamano just cheers in his sleep. Kurama chuckles at that.

“We’ve faced Amemiya plenty of times, dude,” Kurama responds. “We’ll all be waiting for what comes after. We’re waiting for FFI, you know? The real, not alien one, the one that we actually stand a chance against now?”

“What, you think you’ll make it this time?” Minamisawa teases, “after nearly you missed the lineup last year, the year before, and  _ especially  _ the year before that?”

Kurama retaliates by squeezing his fingers around Minamisawa’s forehead, drilling holes in the side. “Galaxy Eleven was an exception and we all know that! Half of them kinda quit soccer anyways.”

“Ow ow ow! Kurama, stop that!” Minamisawa sits upright, but Hamano’s body is around his lap so he doesn’t get far. He holds his head-- yikes, you can never trust your body parts around this little angry gremlin, “why-- oh, because you can’t use Souls in official games.”

Kurama gives him a snide grin, and Minamisawa scowls.

“It was never really Sakura’s or Konoha’s thing, so they went back to wherever. The two nerds decided to go back to studying, apparently they’re gonna pursue something more scholarly,” Kurama sums up, “or, that’s what we heard through the grapevine.”

Minamisawa hums in agreement, “Ibuki still raids our practices every once in a while, but he just refuses to play in official games. I guess it’s just not their thing, huh.”

They spend a moment in silence.

It’s awkward.

Then they start speaking in unison, “hey--” And they fluster at the jinx, blushing madly. 

“You go first,” Kurama shoves.

And Minamisawa shoots back, not looking in that direction. “No, this is embarrassing, Embarrassing is  _ your _ thing. You say it first.”

“I fucking hate you!” Kurama sneers. Then a moment later, “just-- gah! What the fuck. I mean-- fuck, okay--”

“Could you stop swearing?” 

“No, fuck you!” 

They burst into laughter. It’s uncontrollable, because the moment they try and stop, they see each other and somehow that sets off another wave of laughter.

It takes a while, and a few deep breaths, before they’re composed enough to talk again.

This time, Kurama’s smile is in its usual snide. “Let’s hope we both make it this time,” he says, “cause I  _ really _ wanna play soccer on the same team as you again.”

And Minamisawa smiles back. “Me too.”

Their moment shatters when Hamano bolts startlingly upright, and he just  _ screams _ . “GUYS MINAKURA IS CANON NOW!”

Everyone in the vicinity jolts into attention. 

Kurumada yells “Amagi you owe me ten bucks!”, and Shinsuke does the same thing to Kariya. Said losers wail in despair.

Minamisawa and Kurama blush bright red at the sudden realization, and they  _ screech _ . In their panic, they all stumble to their feet as Hamano hops away, screaming the breaking news for the world to hear.

“No! Hamano! Don’t you dare! Come back here-- Hamano get back here I swear I will rip your limb out and shove it down your throat!!”

They chase each other across the field, until eventually Coach Endou comes in and right about tosses them out with orders of going home.

-

Minamisawa and the rest of Gassan Kunimitsu are there to see them off when they leave for Holy Road stadium.

“You better win against Arakumo, got it? I bet twenty bucks to Yukimura about it and my pocket money is steep this week.”

“What’s with you guys and making pointless bets, goddammit?”

“Dude, it's the annual Holy Road Finals,” Minamisawa justifies, “last year you guys just had to go and lose. We lost fifteen bucks to Kaiou that year, you know?”

“Get a life!” Kurama snaps.

“But the bets are always on the soccer news,” Minamisawa rolls his eyes. “Are you Team Windy Pegasus Idiot or Team Airheaded Sunshine Boy? Pick a side.”

“I really don’t want to be part of either of those retarded names.”

They’ve boarded the bus, the sun’s almost risen. And today, they’re going to win. Someone’s already sleeping, and everyone is just a little excited in finally getting to play against Taiyou in a huge stadium again.

Kurama doesn’t really care.

He just gives Minamisawa a fistbump, and they smile in the promise they’re not going to break. Not again, not this time.

“I’ll be watching,” Minamisawa tells him.

“You better,” Kurama says back.

When they leave, Kurama really thinks that they can win. They can win, and then, they’re going to make it to the world. It’s been so long since Fifth Sector’s rule, they’ve finally gathered enough strength to put up a great fight against the world.

This time, Kurama is going to face the world, and Minamisawa will definitely be by his side. Hand in hand, he’s going to get Minamisawa back with him.

And nothing can stop him.

He closes his eyes, and the sleep that comes is comforting.

When he wakes up, though, it’s when the caravan screeches to a halt, jostling everyone inside and causing a yelp from Kariya when Amagi lands on him.

“What’s that?” there’s something unsettling in Tenma’s voice when he raises it a tone, sounding actually fearful.

“Guys, something’s wrong,” Tsurugi agrees, and soon heads are out or by the window, looking at the outside.

Kurama shifts to attention, squeezing under Amagi’s arm to find a space for himself to see what’s going on.

And heck, he doesn’t understand, either.

“What the fuck is that?”

It’s like the road is gone. Before them is a purple void, sparkling with red death, swirling in glowing waves-- 

“Furukabu-san, reverse!” they hear Endou yell, but there’s no time, and on a mountain way like this, there’s no space, either. “We need to get out of here!”

The void expands, and swallows them whole.

Everyone screams-- but then gravity gives, the car flips, and a sharp crash into a rock wall sends windows shattering into a hundred thousand pieces.

Kurama loses his vertigo, finds himself soaring backward-- and he crashes into the side of the seat, where his spine bends out and makes a startlingly sharp  _ crack _ .

He can’t even howl, but the pain  _ pierces _ . 

Everyone’s in a panic, getting thrown around all over the place, so no one notices him. They’re just desperately, desperately, clinging onto something.

The caravan is rolling now. 

Down the cliff.

The sky opens up bright, into the dark purple expanse of what Kurama vaguely recognized as a wormhole-- then it breaks into reality again, through the grounds of a forest, tumbling down like a fallen toy bus.

Kurama’s sent crashing into the seat again, and this time, it hits something that hurts like a spear in his stomach. Blood rises in his throat, and he bites down the throbbing in favour of something that sounds like a sob. 

He coughs into his hand, and it’s red. Is it supposed to be that red? 

He stares at his hands, horrified-- because there’s so much. It’s dripping down his lips too, and he’s still choking up a little more. He absent-mindedly wipes it against his pants and reaches for the seats again.

Fuck, that hurts. He tries to clamber upright, but the bus is eaten by the wormhole again-- and the spinning starts once more.

(Is it just him, or are there less people screaming now?)

The sky is red.

There’s either dust or glass in his eyes, but he can’t see well. He faces one last crash against the roof of the caravan-- then he just falls limp.

His head hurts. Maybe it’s a concussion, because he can’t put any energy at all in his limbs. From his fingers, everything is numb, and when he lands face first on the floor, he vaguely registers that he no longer hears any screaming.

Just the incessant ringing of the bells, and the dull noise of someone calling his name.

He wonders if it's Minamisawa.

-

-

-

The first thing he does when he wakes up is take a deep breath, like he’s never taken a gulp of fresh air before. He coughs sharply, leaning hard against the ground-- soil? It’s really cold. 

“Calm down, breathe slow,” someone has a hand on his shoulder, and though he doesn’t recognize the lady’s voice, he obeys.

He takes a deep breath after another-- then a series of coughs-- and he’s breathing slow again, bit by bit. The pain is overwhelming in his throat-- but at least it’s dry this time, he thinks. He doesn’t taste blood anymore.

It burns in his chest, like he’d swallowed a lungful of water down the wrong windpipe.

It’s cold. His clothes are wet. Why are they wet?

It’s daytime. His head hurts. His spine hurts. But it’s not numb anymore, and it’s significantly less painful than before. 

He bolts into an upright position, only to find a scream ripping out of his throat, and his lower back fucking hurts.

“Woah, woah! Hey-- calm down.”

A pair of hands ease him back into a lying position, and this time, Kurama lets himself rest. He feels like he’d gone tumbling down a mountain by the side-- and yeah, that’s probably exactly what happened.

“Wha--”

He chokes, and coughs-- but he gets the point across.

“You fell from… we don’t know, since it was higher than we were,” this voice is male, and it’s strangely familiar, “you fell into a frozen lake, so don’t move. We’re not sure if you broke anything important.”

Kurama manages to open his eyes.

It’s not just cold because his clothes are wet.  _ It’s cold because it’s fucking snowing? _ The world is white, is this heaven? Dear god, he’d rather have hell, to be honest.

(It cannot possibly be snowing. It’s not the season-- much less, this much snow doesn’t happen in Tokyo.)

The lady is obviously older than the rest of them, and she’s talking on the phone, obviously for an ambulance of some sort. But that’s not the problem… the few faces in front of Kurama, hovering over him-- are young.

Like Junior High School age, that kinda young. 

The colours are peach yellow and rich blue. Kinda like Arakumo’s jersey, but that’s definitely a gym jacket. So it’s more like… Raimon’s? His vision eventually cleared-- and he finally sees something discernible in the boy before him.

Dreadlocks, and a pair of goggles.

And the other guy had an orange bandanna over his head.

Trainer Kidou? But no way, he’s supposed to be in Teikoku… is that Coach Endou? Why does he look so… squishy?

Kurama lies back with a groan. Okay, think back. What happened? What is going on? He feels the pain slowing numb out, and when breathing is just a little easier, he moves his hands. 

“Could you look at me?” 

The voice is softer, gentler. Kurama looks over and he sees Kazemaru Ichirouta. The girly guy of Endou’s era that can run faster than Hayami and longer than Tenma.

Like the others, he’s younger than Kurama remembers. He looks fearful, fragile, but the grip he has on Kurama’s shoulder is strong.

“Do you know where you are? What’s your name?”

Ah, standard emergency questions. Kurama really does think he’s hit his head. Maybe he can sleep and when he wakes up he’ll actually be sleeping on Minamisawa’s stomach and none of that bus crash nonsense actually happened.

“I…” he squeezes his eyes shut, because his sight only gets blurrier and the light is getting painful. Speaking isn’t any much easier, so he takes a while and chokes up at least something.

“Take your time,” Kazemaru urges him.

“...Kurama,” he manages, lifting a hand and clenching on the boy’s sleeve. “Where…?”

“You’re on a mountain road, we’re a few minutes from Hokkaido,” Kazemaru responds, and Kurama feels his stomach drop. 

He freezes shock still, and it’s not because of the cold. Hokkaido? That’s too far away from Tokyo. Why are they here, anyway? No, why is  _ he _ here? 

His head hurts. Why does it hurt? Where is everyone? He’s supposed to be on the caravan, headed for Holy Road Stadium, and… and the  _ wormhole _ .

(Fuck.)

(He’s time travelled, hasn’t he?)

-

-

-

He’s not too sure when he falls asleep, but when he’s awake again, he’s in a hospital.

The doctor thinks he has amnesia, and it’s easy from there to get the date, the location, and his physical state. 

He hit his back a little (a little?) but there’s no complete loss of movement in any part of his body. A few of his fingers are twitchy and a pinky can’t work anymore, but at least he can still function everywhere else.

(And that’s utter fucking bullshit.)

He heard the crack. He should be dead, or paralysed all the way. There’s no such thing as a miracle or any of that shit. He’s supposed to have hit something near his waist-- but there’s no injury at all? He threw up blood! 

He felt himself actually  _ dying _ .

There’s no way his worst injuries are the cuts, scrapes, and outer infections from rolling down a hill and crashing into half-crusted ice. There is no way.

“We can’t seem to find anything about you,” the doctor then says, “documents of any form, or any contact numbers-- we don’t know. If you don’t remember anything about yourself…”

Fuck. Fuck,  _ fuck _ .

“I’m from an orphanage!” he says quickly, panicking. He takes another moment to remember the first orphanage he’s quite fairly sure exists, “Sun Garden.”

That’s Kariya’s place, right?

“I see,” the doctor hums in approval, “then we will need to investigate the cause of your fall from such a high place.”

Fuck,  _ fuck _ \-- if legal authority comes in Kurama is  _ never _ going to hear the end of this, he can’t do this, oh no--

“We were--” he spills, “attacked by the mountain bear. They’re… dead.”

Dead. That’s what he was. That’s what-- that’s what everyone else is, right? Rolling down a fucking hill like that, there’s no way anyone survived. Kurama’s the one in the club with better luck and look how he ended up.

(It’s starting to sink in, really.)

(Despair.)

Are they really all gone? When is Tenma going to show up and send them all back home? He hopes it’s soon, because-- because he can’t live like this.

He can’t live not knowing if he’s the only one that survived.

What would Minamisawa think? Would he think everyone died? Was that really the last conversation they’d have between them? Seriously?

(Why isn’t Kurama dead?)

(What healed him?)

The doctor leaves after a moment, perhaps sensing the emotional turmoil. Maybe he’s going to call in a counsellor next. What a pain. 

Kurama sees himself in the foggy window.

His skin is numb from the morphine, and he can’t move a few fingers. But his skin is smooth, lacking calluses from years of training.

He reaches up to his own face, and brushes back the hair over his eye.

There’s a scar over his brow, from practice three years ago. But unlike usual, it’s a deep brown-- a fresh scar. 

_ Oh, _ he realizes.  _ He’s younger too. _

-

Endou brings everyone to the hospital room, excited to know that the kid they’ve saved has woken up. The doctor is talking about something serious to coach Hitomiko and would rather the teens not listen in.

But when they open the door, the room is empty.

The IV is unfinished, the machine beeping loudly, the needle on the bed. And from the closet, the extra set of clothes are gone. 

Maybe they should’ve picked a room  _ not _ on the second floor, because apparently, now they have an escapee.

-

Despite everything, Kurama gets along with Hamano. That means fake smiles, friendly exterior, and the tendency to expertly swindle a few people without them ever noticing a thing about it.

(What do you mean, that doesn’t sound like Hamano? You guys are getting deceived by his paper innocence! He will literally drown you in a bathtub if you touch Hayami wrongly!)

Kurama snatches a nice blanket from the hospital’s dryers. He gets a set of decent clothing from the closet, then swaps them out for convenience-store shirts.

Money? Well if you stare at a shopkeeper for long enough, they’ll take pity on the amount of bandages you have and give you like, one, maybe. It’s winter, after all.

Kurama spots himself in the mirror again.

There’s a medical brace on each hand, and with the plain clothes and myriad of bandages, Kurama almost looks homeless. 

Well, that’s fine. This isn’t his timeline, and they don’t have Tenma luck.

How did they survive time travelling again? Other than the Arthur one, they hid out in inconspicuous places and tried not to get involved with people in the timeline.

But this is the modern era, and child protection services are strict. He definitely doesn’t know how long he'd be here, which means the lack of money and resources and warmth on him is going to become a problem soon.

Maybe he should really pretend to be an orphan and go live in Sun Garden? But that’s a little nearer to Tokyo… right? He’ll have to hitchhike or something.

He spots a newspaper in the trash and retrieves it. 

Geez, he feels like he’s in one of Kurumada’s dumb isekai mangas! The date’s all wrong, no one knows who he is, and he’s trying to survive alone without a means of gaining food. Where are the cheats?

“What’s this? Aliea Academy’s destroying schools?”

The fuck?

It’s hard to hold a book with just one hand and two fingers on the other hand. It’s even harder to see only out of one eye, but fuck that, whatever.

It’s on the TV too. News of Aliea being a group of aliens from some planet, planning some assertion of dominance with human sports. Yikes, that sounds like the logic of this world. Of course it’s soccer again. Apparently aliens don’t have a more efficient way of taking over this world than a ballsport they’re gonna lose in.

And heck, whoever that Reize guy is, he’s obviously human.  _ What, I’ve seen an alien before, okay! _ Wait, that’s Midorikawa-san, isn’t it?

(Maybe Kurama should’ve listened more closely when Kariya was telling them this stuff in their last camp…)

Wait a fucking minute, this means he can’t go to Sun Garden! Ugh.

This is all a pain, he’s cold, and he doesn’t have a place to sleep. He should’ve just stayed in the hospital and gotten unnecessary counselling sessions. He’s such a fucking genius. Freezing to death sounds like a splendid idea right now.

He curls up by an alley, beside a heater’s generator. Maybe the owner of the house will get mad when they find a random kid sleeping beside their trash, but it really didn’t matter to Kurama at the moment.

He pulls his knees to his chest and buries his face in his arm, wrapping the blanket around himself as fully as he can. 

He breathes out, and his breath is foggy. His cheeks heat up from the cold, and his nose waters. Everything’s a little numb, especially his hands-- he has shoes, but he needed gloves.

It’s cold.

_ I’m gonna freeze to death _ , he subtly realizes, and it’s hard to register.  _ What am I scared of? We just almost died, I’m stranded, and now I’m going to die again. _

Is it going to hurt that much again?

If he dies now, will anyone ever find him? Will Minamisawa ever know? Would everyone else ever find out what happened to him?

Isn’t it sad that no one will even know how you died, so helplessly?

He’s not going to cry. He’s not going to cry, dammit. He sniffles-- it’s because of the cold, the cold-- and his eyes are teary. 

It’s so pathetic. Of all things Kurama could be doing right now,he’s crying because he doesn’t know what to do, because he’s going to die, and he’ll never be able to talk to Minamisawa again. He’ll never be able to play on the same field as Minamisawa again.

Fate was so cruel. 

All he wanted was to be beside Minamisawa on the field again. That was all he wanted.

Instead, the world just keeps coming at them. Time travel, aliens, all this nonsense-- why can’t it just stop already? They’re still kids, dammit. He shouldn’t have to worry about being trapped in the wrong timeline for eternity. It just sucked.

Everything about right now just bloody  _ sucked _ , and the more he thought of it, the angrier he felt. 

He cries himself to sleep.


	2. numb fingers (memories in the snow)

“What on earth is his problem?!” Someoka yells, fist at the wall, “we saved him! Brought him to the hospital! And without even a thank you he just  _ leaves _ ?!”

“Calm down, Someoka,” Kidou has his arms folded, “we don’t know what’s going on with him. He might have been delirious.”

Everyone is silent. The tension is high-- they knew nothing of that kid, but he was hurt. Bad. And this was Hokkaido in the harsh winter. 

No one liked the idea of someone their age, dressed in thin clothes, out facing the snow. Much less someone with as many injuries as that. 

Megane felt like he was freezing already, and he was dressed thickly.

“He’ll freeze to death out there,” Touko reminds them. She always was the one with a very strong sense of responsibility. “I think we should go and look for him.”

“Don’t be rash,” Natsumi cuts her off sharply, “we aren’t familiar with this land, if we search blindly, we’ll be the ones running out of resources next.”

“Then we’re just going to  _ leave _ him?!” Touko snaps.

“I- I didn’t say that!” Natsumi stumbles out of surprise. She stands firm, “I’m just thinking we should do something more logical, like-- like calling the local police!”

Kurimatsu winces, and everyone sinks.

Then Coach Hitomiko says, “she’s right.” And everyone turns accusingly to her. “But at the moment, we have no sort of identification for the boy, other than his appearance. It’ll be hard for the police to take action if they can’t even tell if he’s truly Japanese.”

“You’re saying he might be an illegal immigrant?” Kidou asks.

In the background, Endou and a few others turn to Haruna for an explanation, and Haruna whispers back the definition of the term.

When Coach Hitomiko stays silent, Megane speaks up. “What if he’s an alien?”

And everyone gasps. Even Coach Hitomiko’s eyes widen, taken by surprise.

“I mean, he fell from the sky!” Megane raises his arms to prove his point, “and he had no idea where he was or where he came from.”

It really did make some kind of sense. Maybe the aliens had a falling out?

“And he wasn’t as injured as we initially thought, too,” Kazemaru points out, “he didn’t have any broken bones.”

“That’s right--”

“And what sane boy would tear out an IV?”

“He jumped out of the window in this snow!”

“Did he have shoes?”

“He’s gotta be insane to run out when it’s snowing and he doesn’t have a coat.”

The more they debate over it, the more it seems plausible. Someone is making whining noises in the background--  _ we saved an alien! We’re all gonna die! _ And someone else is trying to assure them,  _ maybe since he owes us a debt now he’ll pay us back later! _ And then someone else says _ he’s not a crane! _

Natsumi sighs. Coach Hitomiko thinks to herself.

She hasn’t told the crowd that the boy insists he’s from Sun Garden, simply because Sun Garden is all the way a few hundred miles back, and no one except the youngest children are there. Everyone near the boy’s age was in Mt Fuji with the Aliea project.

And even then, Hitomiko doesn’t recognize the boy. She knows all of them by heart-- there’s no way there could be a face she doesn’t remember among her kids.

So the boy is lying. Why would he lie?

(Unless he really  _ was _ an illegal immigrant or something…)

And thus, he can’t be an alien, either. It’s something else-- something unrelated to the current Aliea mess… he could be a normal kid with unfortunate luck, for all they knew.

“The police and locals will keep an eye out,” Hitomiko decides, “for now, what we have to do-- is to head to Hakuren Junior High, and look for Fubuki Shirou.”

There’s no sense in worrying for a child that doesn’t want to have his origins traced.

And Hitomiko knows, because there are plenty of children in the orphanage that are like that, too.

-

“Come on, hurry, hurry,” the strange girl pulls him by the arm, “god, your hands are freezing even through my gloves. Guys! Go prepare the hot tub! Bring a hot water bottle, and uh, plenty of blankets!”

Kurama is frankly freaking out.

He drifts off for two seconds, then wakes up to a screaming little girl. She then yells at the adult with her,  _ Coach Takayama _ she calls him, to drive them back to  _ wherever _ .

Kurama’s danger sensors really say he shouldn’t enter a stranger’s car-- but the girl has a grip of a freaking claw as she tugs him inside, sets the heater to full blast, and they zoom off into winter craziness.

(What’s this trend of tiny people with bone-crushing grips? Shinsuke was like this too.)

Kurama barely has a few minutes to contemplate that he’s been kidnapped before he finds himself before Hakuren Junior High.

“Sorano-kun, lend us your spare jersey! And whoever feels like a man today can lend us their winter coat while they’re at it!”

The girl that instigated the kidnapping was small, but not smaller than Shinsuke. She had a traditional straw hat over her head, like a Zashiki Warashi. Or like a yukinko, or like a Snorunt… you know, the Pokemon?

Kurama is going to stop questioning it.

Kurama finds himself wrapped in a myriad of hot towels and warm blankets. He sips on his mug of hot chocolate, and for a moment he really just felt alive.

_ Wait, no. _

“Uh--”

“Are you still cold?! Guys is the bath ready yet?? Close that window!”

“No, I mean--”

“Don’t get up! Ohhh, if only Fubuki were here! He knows what to do with injuries…”

“Wait, listen to me--”

“Matoro, could we borrow your hat?”

“Listen, dammit!” Kurama yells sharply, and the girl squeaks, everyone collectively shooting back. Kurama spends a horrid moment to realize he’d yelled at a girl, then he flushes, “I mean-- I’m sorry for yelling. Sorry for troubling you guys… uh, thanks.”

They stare at him curiously at his sudden change in attitude.

Then one of them just swoons, “he’s just like Atsuya-san!” she holds her face like she’s eating something superby sweet, “don’t you think so, Konko?”

“He is!” they agree, “spiky and kinda angry but a total Tsundere!”

“Don’t call me a Tsundere!” Kurama blushes bright red.

-

Hakuren Junior High has dorms by it, so there’s a dorm bath right around that they can use to warm up. Having locker showers in weather like this was just asking for frostbite, after all. 

Kurama was a little grateful. He could finally have a moment to really take in the current state of his body. Ailing cuts and scrapes, a particularly nasty one at his left elbow.

There are bruises all over the place, but the main problem came from the one at his side, purpling out. Kurama wonders if he got it from the bus crash, since it’s around the same area-- but the doctor said it was nothing vital.

(Could it be that the time travel healed the original wound, just not fully?)

(It doesn’t line up with the logic of the time travel they know, so it must be something else. Something  _ like _ time travel, but isn’t. Technology even further into the future?)

He can move only three fingers on his left hand, starting from his thumb. His palm is numb and prickly, not cold and not hot. He’s lost his sensation in that palm. 

In his right hand-- he can still move the fingers, but the wrist is significantly less flexible, which makes his fingers tremble. He can’t hold things without shaking badly. 

So this is the price of hitting his spine? No… he felt it shatter. Whatever it was that healed his side healed his spine as well, and this is what’s left. It could’ve been worse. He could’ve lost everything from the neck down.

(Whatever the fuck this is, he’s grateful.)

(Because at least his legs are fine and he can still play soccer.)

-

Sorano Rebun’s clothes are a little big on him (height difference, ugh, this was the closest they had) but it’s comfortable. The Hakuren gym jacket is green, with dark blue cuts. It’s a strange difference from Raimon’s blue and yellow, and it’s so many times warmer. 

But why didn’t their jacket match their jersey in its blue and white theme? Because it’d look like camouflage against the snow? Maybe.

Kurama wonders if he looks weird in Hakuren colours.

(Heck, this place is really different in the future. He’s only been here once in the future, but this place looks like a run-down mountain ski lodge.)

No, he’s not being ungrateful, he’s just impressed by the passage of time, he swears.

He gets his hair blow dried, and then everyone’s fussing over all his injuries, setting new balms over the wounds and wrapping new bandages over it, to his utterly embarrassed dismay. 

When he’s finally fresh, clean, wrapped in blankets and holding onto a new cup of hot chocolate again, Kurama wonders if this was heaven.

Wait, no.

“I… don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but…” he speaks up, “why are you guys helping me? I have no way to repay you guys.”

The little girl that looks like a yukinko huffs, hands on her hips. 

“In this harsh winter, everyone helps everyone!” she declares, and everyone nods, “and you’re too young to be left in the cold like that! You’re not Shirou-kun, after all.”

“But I don’t even  _ know _ you guys,” Kurama insists, “and… Shirou-kun? You mean… Fubuki Shirou-san?”

“You’ve heard of him? He’s our ace striker!” she grins, “if he ever learned that we left someone out in the cold, we’d all get whupped in the butts by Atsuya-kun!”

Kurama blinks.

So such honestly helpful people existed? Kinda reminded him of Tenma… well, Yukimura was kind of like that after the whole Seed business. Hopelessly motherly and cranky… especially when it came to Tokyo people in the cold.

Who’s Atsuya, anyways?

Fubuki Shirou, one of the famous forwards of Inazuma Japan. Tsurugi inherited Wolf Legend, so they all know how strong Fubuki is…  _ speaking of which, Amemiya and Yukimura said they were going to try and master  _ **_Crossfire_ ** _ after they finally got  _ **_Fire Blizzard_ ** _ down… I wonder if they got it down before the finals? _

(Ugh. The Holy Road finals.)

Regardless, Kurama bows.

“I can’t thank you guys enough for this,” he says, truthfully, “I owe you guys.”

And the girl giggles, “it’s fine, it’s fine! The school has fully equipped facilities for a reason, after all. You can rest in one of the rooms until you’re fully recovered.”

He could’ve died again, but he didn’t.

And beyond anything, that means that Kurama isn’t supposed to die here. Not here, not so pointlessly-- he has to live, especially after cheating death twice now.

And that had to mean something, right?

(He’s lost in time. Surely, Fei is doing something about it.)

For now, he has to focus on recovering. He’s got a temporary lodging for now, but he can’t feed off Hakuren’s kind gestures for too long, either.

He needs to think in the long term, the bigger picture.

What would… What would Tenma do in this situation?

Ugh, the world must be ending if he thinks Tenma’s methods are his next go-to.

-

-

-

He can’t write.

He can’t  _ fucking _ write!

He never thought through the consequences of losing full mobility in his hands, cause he was too happy about being able to move his  _ legs _ \-- but this, this is ridiculous.

The yukinko girl--  _ Araya Konko _ \-- looks at the paper, and she squints.

“You have really bad handwriting,” Konko says, and Kurama screeches into the void.

He has to hold his hand over his wrist, and he’s squeezing the pencil so hard, but it’s hopeless. This is like trying to write with his left hand while doing the plank. It’s just plain impossible and startlingly pointless. Ugh.

He pulls off the velcro strap of his left brace, and tugs it back on tighter. He’s going to have to give up. He slides the right brace into his wrist, and makes sure it’s on tight.

He’s gonna have to get used to having both on at all times.

Maybe he should’ve stayed in the hospital to get further instructions… ah, nevermind. He’s going to live alone now! Without interfering with time!

(Actually, wouldn’t making a mess of things make it easier for Fei to find him?)

(But then again, if he messes with too much, Raimon soccer club might not exist and they’re all back to square one of the history’s strongest eleven bullcrap again.)

(Speaking of which, can he still Miximax?)

“Kurama-kun, I think we have some guests, so I’ll be going to the hall, okay?” Konko says to him, getting off the chair and leaving his side, “just stay in the club room, but call us if you need anything!”

“Ah-- don’t worry about me.”

Kurama feels like a freeloader. He needs to find a way to pay them back before the guilt eats him inside and out. Damn you, my conscience.

Okay, alone time. Where are you, depression and suicidal thoughts? We had like, an appointment or something.

He looks in the mirror. He’s younger-- if he had to put a guess with his height, cause lord knows he had a growth spurt in high school-- he’s about junior high age again. And judging by the scar above his brow, he’s in his second year.

Ugh.

(He can’t even feel his Keshin.)

Does that mean he’s just as weak now? 

That sucks. 

Kurama stands up with a sigh. There’s no use moping about it at this point. Maybe he should start training again to regain his physique. That fall can’t have been good for any of his physical abilities. Even if he can’t use a hissatsu, he should at least jog or dribble or something before his muscles soften up.

-

“ **_You_ ** .”

The word is spat out with such malice, Kurama wonders if it’s poisonous. The entire Raimon (former, Endou generation, squishy teenager Raimon) is staring at him like he’s a ghost, eyeing him with various degrees of anger to exasperation to confusion.

It seems that Raimon is here to recruit Fubuki. But for now, they’re building snowmen, having snowball fights, and generally being a bunch of children.

Kurama sort of envied them. They could have times like these, even in their worst peril. The Raimon of the future didn’t have things like these...

“Me,” he mumbles, and he wants to run, but he knows that they’ll definitely catch him before he gets anywhere.

“You were a member of Hakuren?!” Someoka points at him, gawking.

Is this really that cool as a cucumber, unnecessary white coat and fedora, Someoka Ryuugo? Kurama doesn’t see it.

“Uh, no… I--”

“Why did you run from the hospital?” Kazemaru cuts him off, “with all your injuries, you could’ve  _ frozen _ out there!”

“Do you remember things now?” Megane asks, fixing his glasses as if to inspect Kurama’s fresh bandages, “I see you’ve cleaned up and made yourself cozy here.”

Kurama held his hands before himself, not too sure where to start. Endou is looking at him with those eyes that meant ‘I do not hate you, but boy do I not like what you just did’, and Kidou is frowning right through his goggles. 

That’s impressive. Both are signs that you’re in for a full lecture after all this. Geez, they’re like that even as teenagers?

“Hey!” and god bless, there’s Konko. The girl that’s at least two heads shorter than all of them marches right up, face scrunched with displeasure. “I don’t know what’s going on, but no bullying Kurama-kun!”

It’s kind of hilarious, kind of endearing, Kurama isn’t sure.

All he knows is that Someoka looks really flustered being stood up to by a small girl, and his face is really laugh-worthy.

“Apparently, Konko-chan found him by an alley and brought him back,” Fubuki explains to the crowd, “so we’re keeping him in the dorms for now.”

“Keeping-- he’s not a pet, you know?” Endou can’t resist the retort. “Well, I guess that’s fine…”

_ Yes, yes. Let the bullshit logic clear him of his troubles for now… _

“That’s great, but what will you go from now?” Hitomiko speaks over them, “you can’t possibly intend to live in the school forever. Do you have parents? Where are you from? If you’re from an orphanage, you'll have to contact them and get back, or child protective services will take action.” 

_ Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. _ Curse that they actually have an adult here… isn’t this lady Kariya’s mom or something? Kurama thinks he’s seen her around during Parent-Teacher Conferences.

“Are you an alien?” 

Everyone falls silent when Kurimatsu speaks up, hidden behind Kabeyama. Attention is turned to the boy-- then they all dramatically swirl to Kurama. 

Kurama’s jaw drops.

“The fuck?” he says on instinct.

There’s a gasp at his choice of words, and Kurama dryly reminds himself that he’s not in the future, Sangoku isn’t around, and he’s actually fourteen right now, so he should really mind his words.

Or not. He doesn’t give a shit.

Frankly, he’s offended. He’s seen an alien before and okay, maybe the fact that he always only shows one eye makes people call him a cyclops, and some people call him a snake because they’re uncreative bastards, but  _ alien _ ? That’s where he draws the line. He is _ not _ that ugly!

...okay, but compare him to Tsurugi, who apparently looks like an alien princess’ dad!

Kurama pinches the bridge of his nose.

Where does he even begin?

“I’m not an alien,” he establishes first and foremost. Then, “I’m sorry for leaving the hospital, but the doctor was  _ really _ nosy about everything and I… can’t answer anything about myself.”

Everyone visibly deflates when he says he isn’t an alien, but tense up again at what he says after that.

So Kidou steps up. “And why is that so?”

Konko has her hand in Kurama’s-- although she doesn’t get the situation, she’s stubborn in the matter that she will put her trust in Kurama and stay on his side. And the boy is really grateful for that. She’s so kind… kinda like Aoi, huh.

“It’s not important,” Kurama says, looking away. 

He can’t tell them he’s from the future, there’s no reason to, and there’s no way they’d believe him. It’s not like the Bakumatsu era or Medieval France, where they’d believe in fantasiacal technology or have a serious perception of witchcraft. They won’t take him seriously if he doesn’t have any way to prove it. 

“I’m not supposed to be here, to begin with. So I’ll find a way to leave soon. And then you guys can forget I was even here,” Kurama lets go of Konko’s hand. He puts his hands back into his pocket, because he doesn't have gloves. “So just… stop associating yourself with me. Please.”

This time, when Kurama walks away, no one can find a reason to stop him.

-

After that, Raimon and Hakuren had a practice match of sorts to ascertain Fubuki’s skills. Kurama’s heard horror stories (yeah, Coach Endou had a sense of humour) about Fubuki’s Dissociative Identity Disorder, but he really hadn’t thought he’d see it firsthand.

He watches from the bench, (because at first, he watched from the snow and Coach Hitomiko said he’d catch a cold and then the managers dragged him over,) amusing himself with the manager’s notes.

Aki, which he’s pretty sure is Tenma’s dorm mom, introduces him to each Raimon member, and gives him a brief rundown of the alien situation easily. 

It helps a lot, because she’s giving him many details that are left out in news reports-- like the fact that the girl in the team is the prime minister’s daughter, and the fact that they’re looking for a new striker because their old one had to quit.

“Then, Someoka is angry because Fubuki is going to be Gouenji’s replacement?” Kurama sums up the situation, and for some reason, he senses deja vu. So he chuckles, “that’s nostalgic.”

“Nostalgic?” Haruna enters the conversation, interested.

Kurama hums. “It was quite a while ago,” he reminisces. It’s really been so long since Minamisawa left Raimon, hasn’t it? “My best friend quit soccer too, once upon a time.”

Aki doesn’t question, she doesn’t chase.

Instead, she asks, “and what happened after that?”

“At first, I was just angry.” He lifts his hand, and sets his palm against the sun. For winter, the sun was so bright. “I hated everything, and I didn’t accept anyone else to stand beside me. I was moved to a midfielder’s position, and I stayed there out of spite. Childish, right?”

He laughs, but Aki doesn’t return it. Her gaze is firm and full of pain-- she really wasn’t in the mood for such tasteless jokes, apparently.

“It took a while, but he came back,” Kurama assures her, and he’s relieved to see how her expressions brighten at that. “And then we promised to play on the same side of the field again.”

“That’s great,” Aki says, a smile on her face.

“Yeah,” Kurama agrees. “That’s why-- if you guys believe in him… and if he truly, really does love soccer-- he will definitely come back. We just have to wait.” he smiles for a moment, then he rubs a bashful hand over his face, “oh, look at me. I’m spewing sentimental bullcrap now. Please, forget I said that.”

And Aki giggles in response. That’s the same short giggle Akane always gives him before she calls him cute, so Kurama swears in his head.

Kurama picks up a spare soccer ball, and he holds it firmly in his lap.

“I’ll definitely make it back home,” he tells himself, though he’s sure Aki can hear him. He lets his fingers tighten around the ball, and his brows furrowed with conviction. He balls his fists, “it was a promise, after all.”

He doesn’t turn to look at Aki. 

The practice match is called to a stop, and Kurama stands up. He’s seen enough, so he’s going into his room to rest.

-

Fei can’t come any sooner, so maybe Kurama can go to  _ them _ instead.

They’ve time travelled so much, surely there’s a time frame Kurama can cut into, to make sure Fei knows he’s here where he doesn’t belong…even if it’s not the Fei he knows, anyone from El Dorado would do. They had an inter-time communication system, after all.

The founding of Raimon’s soccer club. No, that’s already past. Then… when they went to visit Raimon after FFI? It’s a little far away. Is there nothing nearer? Tsurugi and his brother’s accident! But Kurama doesn’t know where that is…

“Okinawa,” he realizes suddenly, “Tenma’s soccer interruption point!”

That’s right-- Alpha comes by there and stops Gouenji from saving Tenma… then Tenma meets Fei and they begin their time travel nonsense. 

But would the interruption point still be there? Tenma fixed it, but surely the brief time stop situation will still be there… even if it is, there’s no guarantee Kurama will be able to talk to them. He doesn’t have a time bracelet.

(But right now, that’s his best bet.)

(Surely Fei is trying to search for all of them right now. Kurama needs to make some sort of sign to tell Fei he’s around-- a way that attracts attention, but doesn’t alter important bits of the future.)

Kurama’s never been one to place his hopes in a ‘maybe’ situation.

**_But if you try hard enough, it’ll be fine, somehow!_ **

Oh, Tenma is really a horrible influence on all of them.

-

-

It’s nighttime. 

Kurama can’t find himself an appetite, even though he doesn’t remember eating anything since he first came here.

So he steps out into the moonlight.

He finds himself before the skating rink, feeling a little nostalgic. It’s harder to run up here in the cold, but a little practice never hurt.

Kurama came here in his Raimon jersey. It was torn and too ragged after his fall, so the hospital disposed of it-- but he was wearing his spikes when they crashed and he’s still wearing them now. They’re his only shoes for now, and it’s a relief.

He steals a soccer ball from the storage, and lowers himself into the rink.

It’s cold, he doesn’t have gloves-- but the coat he borrowed from Mafuru is warm. He’ll warm up if he exercises, anyways.

The Snowland Stadium taught them how to run with their spikes as heels.

His muscles are weakened, but his body remembers how to do things at least in theory. It takes a few tries, but he begins to skid along the ice rink easily, dribbling the ball along the way and making firm practice with all the space he can get.

He remembers practice sessions for Snowland Stadium, where Kariya would teach everyone the way of the _ screw everything just defy logic _ , and he can’t help but smile to himself. Kariya and Hamano were always the most capable members on this field.

(Ah, he’s getting sentimental. If he keeps thinking like this, he’s going to start missing Raimon.)

He slaps himself on the cheeks.

(Don’t think about it, don’t think about it.)

If he thinks about it, he might just cry. And crying really isn’t a Kurama thing.

(He’ll get home soon. He just has to focus on not getting any weaker.)

He dribbles across the field again. There’s no goal on the ice rink, but he decides a branch on the other side works just fine as a marker.

He dodges an invisible opponent-- and skids on one heel. He swirls the ball with a foot, then does a backflip, flinging the ball into the air. He flips, and with both feet, twists the ball into a sharper spin. 

“ **_Strike Samba!_ ** _ ” _

He lands, leaps-- and kicks the ball hard. Green and yellow energy swirls around the ball, but it bursts, flickers-- and dies out. It hits the branch, snapping it in half-- then it sinks into the many-inch-thick snow and buries itself inside.

He can’t help but whine, a little disappointed.

“I can probably do Sidewinder, but Strike Samba is still a little early, huh…” he sighs to himself, skidding over to retrieve the ball.

And to think he’s finally gotten it up to V3. Guess he’ll have to start over now… maybe he should try Sidewinder instead? But with his arms like this…

“Oh bloody hell,” he whispers to himself, suddenly realizing something important. “I probably can’t do a handstand anymore, can I?”

Kurama’s strongest points, even stronger than Hamano in this aspect, was his flexibility. He could do somersaults and backflips and handstands over breakfast and anywhere, on any platform, over any burning fire if he wanted to. 

In fact, only Matatagi could compete against Kurama in parkour. Kurama even mastered  **_Parkour Attack_ ** just to spite that guy. In fact, they were closer to mastering **_Parkour Duel_ ** than Matatagi and Tenma were...

But with his hands like this? Forget  **_Parkour Attack_ ** , can he still do  **_Sidewinder_ ** _? _ Both moves needed him to shift into a handstand for the necessary momentum. Unless it’s already got the momentum, like a shoot chain or something...

“Hey!”

He freezes.

There's a sharp “shh!” from another voice, so Kurama can quickly tell it’s not just one person interrupting his nighttime practice session.

He turns in the direction of the school, and Endou is there, along with Kazemaru.

“You’re Kurama, right?” Endou smiles at him, because strangely enough, he doesn’t seem to care where Kurama’s from or what even is he anymore, “were you practicing a hissatsu shoot?”

_ Ah, he was watching? _

“Sorry, we were on top of the caravan, so we saw you,” Kazemaru is a little more polite, “we didn’t mean to spy.”

“It’s… fine,” Kurama assures them, keeping his face straight, voice uninterested, and turning away to dig the ball out of the snow. “I’m just trying to see what I can still do.”

There’s a moment where the two former adults blink at him, as if wondering why Kurama was being such an unsociable jerk at this hour of the night when it’s just a harmless question.

Then Endou speaks up, “so you play soccer too, huh?”

“Why are you practicing on the ice rink instead of the field out back?” Kazemaru asks, “it’s dangerous.”

Kurama notes that the two are carefully not stepping onto the ice. At least they were aware of it. Tenma would’ve probably stepped on it and started sliding around helplessly by now, as clumsy as he was…

“It’s practice, in a way,” Kurama explains simply. “Dribbling on an unstable surface improves your balance. You guys are practicing on the ski slope, aren’t you? It’s the same concept, slightly different.”

“I see…” Endou observes, “that sounds cool! Can I join?”

“Huh?!” Kazemaru panics, then Endou is leaping into the ice-- only to slide right out and hit his head like a genius. Kazemaru turns away in shame.

Kurama’s reaction is almost the same, except, he throws the ball into the air in a panic. He tries to catch Endou, then at the last moment decides to dodge him, and turns away when the captain smacks face-first into ice.

He winces.  _ Why is young Coach Endou such a Tenma? _

Endou laughs, rubbing the bump at his forehead sheepishly. ”It might help me with my keeper techniques!” he insists, trying to stand up, only to land hard on his butt again.

Kurama finds himself sighing, reaching a hand out to Endou and helping him get up. Defeatedly, he lets the boy hold tightly onto his arms and elbows.

“Don’t put your energy into your toes,” he says, “you’re wearing spikes, so lean on the sides, and skid forward in large movements, like you’re skating.”

And that is the story of how Kurama ended up teaching Endou (and somehow in extension, Kazemaru) how to play soccer on ice.


End file.
